


Near the Coast

by IantoPace



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dresses, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Flirting, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Makeup, Vignette, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IantoPace/pseuds/IantoPace
Summary: Geralt finds out some of the feminine things Jaskier likes. This is inspired by the images of Joey Batey & Madeleine Hyland in the woods wearing each other's clothes.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 337





	Near the Coast

They’re near the coast, close enough for Geralt to pick up the sea on the occasional breeze, and not very south of Oxenfurt, from what Jaskier’s earlier ramblings tell him.

There are certainly a number of academy-educated folks; something he bases collectively on the talk of politics and other boring nonsense in the market, the generally cleaner and fancier clothing, the accents, and, of course, the scent of those born well-off, which mostly meant a scent free of sweat and muck. A scent quite opposite of Geralt’s until the bath he was forced into the night they arrived by a certain bard. Nevertheless, Geralt is fairly sure he covers the scents of soap and lavender with the copious amounts of ale that follow. He drinks and Jaskier works the crowd of their temporary residence a bit.

But the bard’s repertoire doesn’t work as well this night, so he is cut short by lack of interest as well as the figure he rushes to after a short bow.

The patron looks about Jaskier’s age, with dark brown waves and prominent cheekbones and a lovely brown and gold doublet significantly less adorned and excessive than some of Jaskier’s. The extravagant bard rushes up to her with his ridiculous, gleeful smile and seems to almost topple her over when he wraps his arms around her. She quickly returns the favour and for a long moment the pair settle their heads on each other’s shoulder.

And Geralt has to catch himself here as the darkness of doubt creeps into his brain. They’ve had this conversation, they’ve had this almost-argument. Jaskier has said ‘yes’ to him every day for more than a year now, whether spoken or in gesture. Jaskier has asked him what _he_ wants of this relationship. Jaskier has agreed and promised to gladly await him whenever they are apart. Jaskier has never given him reason to doubt his feelings for the Witcher.

Yet, he doubts. He always doubts and that is what caused their almost-argument because he’s a _butcher_ and he’s dangerous and how could _anyone_ want him long-term?

But Jaskier calls him “White Wolf”. But he’s Jaskier’s White Wolf and after their almost-argument Geralt’s noticed more the light hand touching his at bars. He noticed the increasing number of nights when they wouldn’t join in the certain way of flesh, nights when, half-dressed or naked, Jaskier would press fully against him, hand on his breast just over his heart, kiss his neck, and settle into sleep. Geralt even noticed the few more love songs and ballads from the bard - _his_ bard- that often included a mysterious, broody stranger.

And all this is ammunition, an _army_ Geralt aims at the doubt as the beautiful woman says something to Jaskier with an amused smile -Geralt only makes out something about “Witcher”- and Jaskier pulls back and turns to lock eyes with him, joyful smile letting out a laugh as he guides the woman to Geralt’s table.

“Geralt!” Jaskier stops as the two reach the table, sets his arms into a proper, ‘gentlemanly’ position, and clears his throat, continuing playfully. “Allow me to introduce: the renowned, the flawless, the _magnificent_ Melina of Tives.”

Geralt gives him an unimpressed look - the usual - and hesitantly greets, “Um, Geralt.”

“The Great White Wolf, he means, saviour of kings and commonmen alike and fantastic in bed.”

“Jaskier-”

“Yes, yes, dear Witcher, I know you’re a prude.” Jaskier rolls his eyes and insinuates himself onto the small space beside Geralt in the booth before the larger man slides over. Melina takes a seat across from him. “But Melina is my oldest, closest friend who got me into just as much trouble as I got her into through our very young years and into our time at Oxenfurt. I’m obliged to give her some gossip.”

Though nodding at this with a smile, Melina cuts in, “I do get quite a bit of gossip from your songs, _Jaskier_. Perhaps I should catch you up on the bruits around here first.”

Thus, long into the night, they engage in stories or rumours and some truths. ‘They’ meaning Jaskier and Melina, of course. Jaskier would dramatically gasp at some indecent tale about someone or other Geralt’s never heard of and respond with a story of some creature from which Melina could easily pick out the embellishments. Geralt remained quiet with his drink and when Jaskier went to retrieve refills. He found himself mostly comfortable, as he had increasingly with Jaskier around, always filling in for Geralt’s silence. His bard was, with friends, a good talker, and would give room for Geralt to speak without prompting him to do so. The Witcher was more at ease through the night as he half-listened to the story, occasionally ‘hm’ing or giving a disapproving look when Jaskier gave particularly fantastical exaggerations. And he certainly didn’t miss the intermittent thigh against his own or the hand resting on or against his with varying levels of contact throughout the conversation.  
  
Eventually, goodbyes and plans to meet tomorrow are made with Jaskier kissing Melina’s forehead in farewell, and they depart for their respective places to sleep, Jaskier opting for a pillow of Geralt’s chest, unsurprisingly. Geralt is glad for a night of restful sleep; he does have a hunt to investigate tomorrow.

* * *

Geralt returns not long after noon, sooner than he expected. The threat that had scared and almost injured a merchant’s son turned out to be a young rusalka whose youth and fear convinced Geralt the child’s female parent must have died. She likely went after that boy out of fear, as well. While displeased at the reminder of his Child Surprise, Geralt convinced the rusalka to follow him a substantial distance down the river, closer to the sea and less likely to run into humans before she understood her nature.

And they have a habit, now, of Geralt first going to Jaskier after a hunt, reassuring the bard of his lack of injuries or allowing himself to be fussed over until he’s properly bandaged. Geralt has no plans to ever admit he appreciates the attention.

And Jaskier said he’d be staying in for a while, and for Jaskier that can be _a while_. So, seeing no colourful bard in the inn’s downstairs, Geralt walks into their room in the early afternoon and promptly stops in his tracks.

See, Geralt is very sternly reminded that Jaskier has a very nice body: nice eyes, nice shoulders, nice waist, nice legs, nice _neck_ . And it’s not that Jaskier is showing very much _more_ of his chest than usual, just that it’s bordered by soft white fabric that flows from the thin straps over his strong shoulders to pool on the floor by the chair he’s sitting on, a slightly off-white with royal blue accents around some of the seams, especially the ones down his sides. It flows over his waist and hips and the blue draws him right back to Jaskier’s eyes and his lashes, his eyelids, look darker in contrast to that baby blue.

And that brings Geralt to his lips that are a striking red among these other colours, a rich stain from whatever is in the open bottle on the small table in front of him.

And Geralt only has seconds to absorb this - during which he barely does so. Jaskier is smiling as he inspects himself in the small mirror on the table but turns a moment after the door opens. The smile promptly falls into an unsure expression. Geralt can smell the sudden apprehension.

“Geralt,” The usual excited greeting is rushed out in a breathy voice that slightly breaks in the first syllable, followed with a hurried inhale. “The hunt went well?”

Geralt doesn’t know why he can’t answer the simple question, the one he usually replies to with some form of ‘hm’. Perhaps it’s the anxiety still reaching his nose, or the outstanding blue eyes insecurely not staying in one place, or how strongly Geralt wants to reach out and feel the contrasting soft fabric and worked, masculine skin. But he instead replies with, “You’re beautiful.”

Which fortunately seems like a correct thing to say because Jaskier’s eyebrows briefly raise in surprise and the smile just slightly comes back. “Oh, well, thank you, Geralt, you look very nice yourself.”

Then a smaller but strong frame is pushing past Geralt’s shoulder and walking to Jaskier.

“Ugh, I’m not finished. No peeking, please,” Melina informs the men as she situates herself against the desk, setting a tankard of water down before dipping a cloth in it and going to wipe at a spot by Jaskier’s eye.

Jaskier grabs her wrist before she can do so, giving her a heavy look that would prove the closeness of their friendship to anyone who witnessed it, whispering, “A few minutes.”

Melina blinks, looks to the Witcher with realization, and slowly stands. She rests a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and says, “I’ll be right outside” with a smile at Jaskier followed by a near-threatening look at Geralt as she walks out. Geralt swiftly moves out of her way and eases the door closed after her, taking a moment before he can turn back to the stunning sight that awaits him.

Jaskier is sat with his eyes downwards. He takes another deep breath before speaking. “You really think it’s good?”

In the short second Geralt takes to choose his words, Jaskier continues. “Because I know it might not really suit me and it’s unusual but it’s not _illegal_ here. I mean, it was considered a little questionable at Oxenfurt-” Jaskier has stood by now and is pacing a bit, marvelously agile in not tripping over the considerably long dress “-and you must have _questions_ , but I am comfortably a man, Geralt - I mean, occasionally I feel more of ‘meh’ in that area - but, but- well, you know I like the finer things in life when I can get them, and Melina and I have been playing this ‘dress-up’ since we were kids and-”

Sometimes Geralt knows Jaskier rambles to let off steam. This is not the same. So the Witcher removes his sword sheaths and sets them against the wall, taking a few steps towards Jaskier, trying to secure his attention. “Jaskier… Jaskier, stop, please, let me see you.”

Jaskier does lower his voice to a bit of mumbling as his pacing slows. He comes to a full stop as Geralt repeats, “You _are_ beautiful.”

“I, um. You do always… look great. You know I already… desire you. I do now, as well.” Jaskier understands the pauses for Geralt’s difficulty in speaking for himself, particularly about his true feelings. In this moment, it is particularly endearing.

Blue eyes finally look at the Witcher again. Geralt is faced with that striking sight again that forces him to draw a sharp breath. Jaskier, seeing this, huffs a laugh and fully smiles again, approaching the Witcher.

“Oh, that much? We’ll have to visit Melina more often, she does know how to do this best.” Right, Geralt had heard last night about Melina’s business in creating these mixtures of adornment. And however much Geralt tries to focus on the boring aspects of that, Jaskier is still met with a hardness at his thigh as he presses against his White Wolf.

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighs as the bard just barely brushes their lips together, and the Witcher gently crosses the remaining space, feels the slightly different texture of covered lips. He does find the fabric wonderfully soft as his hands wrap around his bard. Jaskier curls his fingers in their favourite spot -his hair- and Geralt explores the flowing fabric’s feel over Jaskier’s waist and hips.

As Geralt starts kissing down his neck, Jaskier voices a reluctant protest: “As glad as I am that you enjoy me in this as much as I do, I am borrowing this dress from Melina. We can’t do such indecent things in it.’

Geralt pulls back a bit from the reddening spots on Jaskier’s neck with a low groan, breathing deeply and keeping his eyes lowered to ground himself. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Jaskier starts to step back, Geralt slowly brings his hands back to his sides. “I was, too, at first, but now I think we have _very_ good things to look forward to tonight.” He drops his voice to a tantalizing purr. “I bet I can keep the eye and lip colouring ‘til then.”

Geralt’s hands twitch, he only replies with, “Hm,” but Jaskier knows what he means.

So he fully steps away to let Melina back in. Geralt is quick to leave before she can fully take in his current state, and Jaskier is glad to fill her in on the very good news as she fixes his lips as well as his eyelids.

And, to both of their pleasure, he _is_ able to keep the kohl and lip colouring on into the night - that is, until Geralt thoroughly ruins the lips again.


End file.
